


Long long weekends (and unexpected encounters)

by nowhereminded



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Tinder, aren't we all, john goes to a funeral, john has a cat, john is awkard with relatives, mimi has weapons and knows how to use them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22669807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhereminded/pseuds/nowhereminded
Summary: John is having a hell of a weekend, and just when he thinks he can finally relax and get himself distracted with some stupid app, something happens. Or, more like someone happens.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 46
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

John was, to put it  lightly, furious. He had his reasons, though— it had been a hell of a day. Actually, scratch that. It had been a hell of _a_ _weekend._

For starters, he had been sleeping in a bed that wasn't his for the last couple of days, and John loved his bed. Loved sleeping in it, loved fucking in it, loved working in it, loved doing eveything in it. If he could die in his bed and be buried with it, he'd do it. He absolutely _loved_ that bed.

So why, you might be wondering, had he been away from such a beloved treasure? Well,  surely  not because he had been getting laid— no, God wasn't that fond of him.  He had actually been staying in a hotel in Scotland (a _shitty_ one if you asked him, _rustic_ if you asked Aunt Mimi) because one of his relatives had died. Sure, those were bad news, but John didn't even know the guy.  He  barely  even recognized his name when Aunt Mimi called him to give him the news, so why should he attend his funeral? It was none of his buisness  really.

Of course, Aunt Mimi didn't accept his kind decline and threatened him to post his baby pictures online if he didn't show up for the funeral. So Scotland it was.

That had only been the beginning of the whole thing. The plane had been a total nightmare, although that was the usual thing to expect from a plane, really.  Then Aunt Mimi complained the whole time because he arrived later than expected ( _well what the fuck do you want me to do, Mimi, ship myself in express post_ _?_ ) and then they had had to drive all the way to the shitty hotel to get ready for the funeral.  John had expected to at least have some time to shower, but  aparently  God  _ really _ wasn't fond of him because he only could change clothes, put some deodorant on and then fucking sprint because _I swear to God, John, if we're late because of your stupid plane I'll wallpaper the whole house with those pictures from when you were a baby and peed in the bathtub_ _._

So, yeah, John  really  pressed the accelerator.

It wasn't fun. Funerals weren't meant to be, he got that, but they at least could be entertaining, right? If he could get something clear from the whole trip was that he had decided how his funeral wouldn't be.

Then the next day they had to spend the whole day with the family to "remember". Remember? There  really  wasn't much to remember in John's case.  At some point he had decided it was better to stay quiet, discreet, and fill his mouth with bread  just  in case someone asked him about the dead man  . It's not like he could say a lot about him other than his name.  For some reason, he thought that a joke like _Who would have expected that all that beer and meat could take its toll on someone's heart, eh_ _?_ wouldn't be welcome.

And so the weekend passed and John survived, barely. He had to go back home, of course, which meant taking another plane and really, he didn't fancy the idea, but he didn't like the alternative either, which was staying at some stranger with whom he shared blood's house. So, like. The plane sounded _way better_.

And there he was, waiting for the gates to open so that he could drop into his seat and, luckily, sleep a little bit. After all, he hadn't had a real good rest ever since he left his bed back in Liverpool.

So yeah, there he was, waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting, and the doors weren't fucking opening and what the fuck was going on.

He let go a frustrated grunt and rubbed his face with complete disregard for his poor glasses. How difficult was it to just... open the gates? Just so that he could get into the plane and take a seat instead of standing in the fucking line? Fucking hell.

Still angry but too tired to really care, he took his phone out of his pocket. His finger danced above the games he had in display, but he wasn't really feeling like shooting some birds at pigs. He finally decided to check the App store, see if there was any interesting, non-data consuming game or something. Maybe something like an new version of Tetris, or...

Huh.

He recognized that logo. He had seen it in George's phone and almost everywhere for a while. The little flame stared at him daringly until he pressed on the "Instal" button. What was he doing, he didn't know, but he was way too sleep deprived to care.

He skipped the whole introduction, all the "Welcome to Tinder" shit, and got straight to the creation of his profile. He didn't really have any intention of creating a real account, he just wanted to see what had his friend so hooked.

He put in his name, but didn't even care to write it down correctly so he ended up being "Jhon Lennnon". He then proceeded to select a photo of his cat licking his balls as a profile picture and as a last step, he filled the description with some nonesense that even he couldn't understand. Something like "I like roller coasters and early warning and muddy water and dID YOU KNOW THAT one and one and one is three". Yeah it really didn't make any sense.

(For a second he thought he heard someone laugh behind him, but considering he had also been hearing _The Piña Colada_ song non-stop in his head ever since he got out of Aunt Mimi's house, he didn't give it much thought.)

Whatever. He was in.

He felt like a young boy's first time in Pornhub, everything so new and exciting— only difference being he actually knew what he was doing. He didn't think he would even get any message from anybody (after all, Elvis The Cat didn't look what you would call... sexy, in that picture), he just wanted to know why people made such a fuss of that app.

He got a hold of the whole swipe thing rather fast. It was even funny, giving his brain barely a second to register what he was seing before swiping left for a no. He didn't want to risk it, you know. Since he hadn't set any preference, he was getting both men and women, which only made it even more entertaining.

For a while he even forgot where he was, what he was doing and why he was in Tinder in the first place. When he heard a ladie's voice announcing the opening of the doors and the line started to move, it was like he had been in a whole diferent world for a moment. He slipped his phone into his back pocket and readjusted the strap of his backpack before following the blond woman he had in front of him to the inside of the plane. Jesus fucking Christ, fucking finally.

After some tortuously slow moments of slipping between people to get to his row and seat (47A, window seat, because of course he paid that extra pounds to get to choose the fucking seat— he deserved that at the very least), he could finally rest. A fucking miracle that was. He closed his eyes for a moment and just then he realized how much his feet were hurting. Yes, that had been a long wait.

After a few seconds, and after noticing the plane wasn't even close to taking off (most of the people were still looking for their seat or trying to plug their luggages into the compartiments above their heads), he grabbed his phone and started swiping once again. He rested his cheek on the knuckles of his right hand, using the left one to swipe, and if he had thought that that position gave the person sitting next to him a perfect view of what he was doing in his phone, he might have reconsidered his options. But he didn't.

After a couple of minutes, when his thumb was getting used to the exercise, John stopped his furious swapping to stare at a picture. It was a guy, around his age, black hair, nice eyes. But it wasn't that what brought his atencion, but the guitar in his hands. At first he thought he was holding it the wrong way, but then he thought _lefties— duh_. Then he looked at the way he was staring at the instrument, almost like it was so precious he didn't even dare touching it in case it broke, and John felt something close to recognition, almost empathy. He knew that look. That guy had to be an absolute music lover like him, and that really peaked his interest. And, well— he had some nice, sexy lips. That too.

For the first time since he had downloaded the app, he looked at the second photo of the guy— Paul, if he hadn't lied about his information. George told him some people do, which is why he was Jhon Lennnon and not because he didn't know how to type. Not at all.

In that second picture he was petting a dog— or a horse, more like. Jesus, that dog was _big_. His whole apartment could fit in that dog's back. 'Paul' was wearing a jumper that fit him nicely and looked really fond of the furry horse. He was more of a cat person himself, really, but he agreed that that dog looked quite fluffy and soft. He skipped to the next photo and, much to his surprise, 'Paul' was holding a vinyl— but not just any vinyl. It was a vinyl of _The King_ , the one and only, and he was holding it with such reverence that John couldn't stop himself from smiling a little and letting out a tiny huff (which, in John's mind, counted as a laugh, thank you very much).

He was disapointed to find out there were no more pictures. Well, that had been quite a journey. He went back to the first photo and his finger hovered a little, doubting. Should he break his golden rule? He felt like the guy ('Paul') deserved it, given he had such a great taste in life. Except for the dog part, but even John could be forgiving from time to time. Oh, come on, what was the worst that could happen? That he actually sent him a message? With Elvis The Cat's picture, he doubted anyone would. So yeah, he swiped right.

A second later, he heard a soft laugh coming from the person sitting next to him. Didn't give it much thought, really. That was until that person spoke.

"Oh well, I think I should feel honoured that you considered me worthy of your right swipe," a male voice in John's left said. "Though I guess that is a pretty nice picture, don't you think?"

John, who up until that moment had been considering the possibility that the dude was talking to someone else, or to himself, didn't react at first. It wasn't until he moved his gaze from his phone to the man sitting next to him that he realized what had just happened.

'Paul' was staring at him with a sly, tiny smile that, he could tell, wanted to grow into a grin. Because yes, _of fucking course_ he was the dude he had been checking out a moment ago in the fucking date app, of course he was. There was no doubt, really, and John wished for the plane to explode or something as he felt the color leave his face.

'Paul', the cheeky bastard, had his legs crossed and had his left elbow on his knee in order to rest his head on his hand, almos mirroing John. Fuck, he looked great, even better than the pictures. Why couldn't he have an eighty year old priest or a fat woman from London siting next to him? No, of course it had to be the hottie from Tinder. Because it had to.

In conclusion, God wasn't only not really fond of him. He _hated his guts_.

John's stare went from his phone to the man and vice versa a couple of times before he reunited the enough amount of braincells to mutter a soft but honest "Fuck."

At that, 'Paul''s amusement only seemed to grow. He arched a perfect eyebrow and tilted his head, looking at John as if he was his favourite comedy show. "People usually wait until the third date to offer that, you know. Quite forward, even if coming from someone from Tinder."

John's brain finally reacted, and as he incorporated a little bit, trying to regain his composture and dignity, he looked at him. "I'm not— I just downloaded the app to see what it was like. I don't even— wait, hold on a second, you _are_ in Tinder!" he accused, staring at him as if he had insulted him. Which he had. Just not directly.

'Paul' laughed softly, and John cursed mentally because it sounded _great_. "Yeah, I know. I was just messing with you. Nothing wrong with it, ey? A man gets lonely from time to time, gotta try new things," he said in a light tone, still smiling.

"Well," John started, also crossing his legs now as if somehow he would feel less exposed that way. "I'm not lonely, I'm _bored_. Was, anyway. I'm done with the app," he decided in that exact moment, grabbing his phone to delete it.

"Aw, really? Now that you had given your first right swipe," Paul cooed, but John could sense some mockery in his tone that only made him furrow his eyebrows even more.

"Don't care, I'm— hold on a second," as if having a revelation, John turned his stare from the screen of his phone to 'Paul' again. "How do you know it was my first right swipe?"

For the first time since that nightmare had begun, 'Paul' looked surprised for a second insted of amused, and John took it as a victory. When he didn't answer, he grinned, feeling like himself once again. "Have been staring at me, have you? What, didn't feel like swiping yourself so decided to stare at someone while he did it?" he teased, squinting.

'Paul' looked away for a second before returning his gaze to John. "Like you said," he started. "I was bored".

"And you didn't have a phone of yours to entertain yourself with? Had to look at mine?" John kept pressing, not loosing his smirk, and only even getting started.

"Maybe I found yours more appealing. Or maybe I wanted to know what kind of guy puts a photo of a cat licking himself as a profile picture."

Ouch.

"One that doesn't actually care for the app and just wants to kill some time, maybe? Had I known I had an audience I would have put a little bit more spectacle into every choice, you know. _Mmm, will I swipe right this time, or will I keep swiping left? Oh, I don't know, I don't know, so many choices, so little time, and Bathilda looks like such a nice lady..._ " he dramatized, bringin a hand to his cheek and giving his best oh-i'm-so-worried-but-not-really voice.

He thought 'Paul' would bite back, but instead he recieved a wholehearted laugh, and John had to just... stare at him while he covered his mouth, trying not to draw anyone's attention to him. Slowly, he smiled too.

"Alright, alright. I'll admit it: it wasn't very nice of me to stare at your phone, and I didn't mean to, but I saw you while you were making the profile and I... I was curious to see what you'd do." he explained, and he actually sounded a little bit ashamed. He didn't loose the smile, though, and was looking at John as if waiting for him to accept his apologies.

John thought for a minute (or acted as he was thinking, anyway), until he finally shrugged and relaxed in his seat. "It's alright, it's not like I put any personal there. Didn't even write my name right."

"Oh, you didn't? So you're not Jhon Lennnon?" the other man asked, exagerating the typos all he could, and John coulnd't stop himself from laughing.

"No, but close. I don't know who that charming character is but _I am_ John Lennon."

"Nice to meet you, John Lennon. I'm Paul McCartney." he smiled, and John mirroed him.

After a few seconds of silence, Paul spoke again. "So what is it that brought you to Scotland? The landscapes? The magical creatures? The weather?" he asked wiggling his eyebrows at the last possibility.

"A funeral." John answered in a low, dry tone. Suddenly Paul looked completly shocked, regret appearing in his face.

"O-oh! Jesus, I'm so sorry..."

John laughed and waved his heand, his tone changing drastically. "Don't worry, didn't even know his middle name. Got dragged because of, well, you know. Relative's commitment."

"Right." Paul nodded, visibly more relaxed.

"And I was threatened, that too." he added without thinking, and regretted it a second later.

"You... were? By who?" Paul asked, clearly as interested as he was confused.

John sighed and shook his head. "My aunt has some... sensitive photos of me. Baby me. A very vulnerable and exposed baby me." he summarized, hoping Paul would get the rest. By the recognition that settled in his eyes, he guessed he did.

"I see. The good old giving you something that looks like a choice but really isn't, eh?" Paul asked, smiling once again.

"Yeah." John nodded, laughing. Then he turned a little bit more to Paul. "What about you?"

"Oh, I came to see a friend. His wedding, actually." he smiled, clearly finding the whole situation very funny.

John's eyebrows shot up and looked at him for a few seconds, as if checking if he was telling the truth. "For real?"

Paul nodded, and John could see he was resisting the urge to laugh. John whistled, admiring the coincidence. "Look at that. You came for a wedding and I came for a funeral." he comented, and shortly after noticed Paul was staring at him as if he expected him to go on.

"Yes?" he encouraged.

"No, that was it. Didn't want to make any deep conclusion out of it, just drew the two dots."

Paul stared at him for a brief moment before laughing again and really, John was dangerously willing to get used to that sound. "I see. You're a man of obvious conclusions, eh? A true detective."

"What do you mean?"

"One and one and one is three..." he replied, looking at John as if he was expecting him to recognize that sentence. He didn't until a few blinks passed, and then he looked at Paul with shock, his eyes wide open.

"You really were stalking me if you were able to read that bit!"

Paul laughed again, earning a stare from the flight attendant that was passing by at that moment. "I already admitted I was!"

"Well yeah but...!"

Finding he had no arguments, John ended up laughing too.

Paul opened his mouth to say something, but then the captain's voice spoke and announced that they were about to take off. Well, finally. He'd be home in no time and then he could go back to his loving bed, and his cute but grumpy cat, and his music, and...

"So you've got a cat?"

Paul's voice drew him out of his thoughts, and for a second he just stared at him before nodding. "And you've got a dog. An enormous one, by the way. Must be heavy as a dead donkey." he added earnestly.

"Your ability to draw _conclusions_ from the most tenuous of evidence doesn't cease to amaze me, John. But, yes, now that you mention her— name's Martha. What's your cat's name?"

Deliberately ignoring his taunt, he focused on the question. "Elvis The Cat." he answered without missing a beat.

Paul did. He lost one, and two, and three, and John was actually considering snapping his fingers in front of his eyes when he finally came back to life. "That's... an amazing name. That's the most amazing name I've ever heard for a cat."

"I know, right? He even recognizes it when I call him. I mean, not always, but if I'm in the kitchen he'll definitely come. So you've got one of his vinyls?"

The flight felt like a twenty minutes drive. They spent the whole first fourty minutes talking, and for the last bit of the flight John offered Paul to share his headphones and listen to some music. It wasn't something he did normally, but he wanted to see just how much of his musical tastes Paul would share— and, truth be told, that way they had an excuse to get a little bit closer to one another.

When the captain spoke again, they both got startled and jumped on their seats (John a tiny little bit more— he had been close to falling asleep). Paul laughed softly, returned him his headphone, and yawned. John found himself wishing they never got to Liverpool.

But they did, eventually, and they walked together towards the exit of the airport. Neither of them needed to pick up and luggage, thay had both travelled light, so they didn't need to part ways until they were already at the very end of their journey.

They stood there for a few seconds before Paul took a step towards John, who was fidgeting with the strap of his backpack. "I— Would you— I mean—" he started, rather unsuccessfully, before biting his lip and staring at John straight in the eyes. "Can I have your number?"

John blinked, and smiled. "I swiped you right, remember? You could find me in Tinder and we could be a match."

Paul huffed, looking almost offended at the idea. "I would have to wait for you to appear, though. What if it takes days, or weeks, or months?"

"Are you so desperate to see me again?" John asked with a smirk, but his heart was beating fast and he had a funny feeling in the bottom of his belly that only grew bigger and bigger as Paul didn't answer and just kept staring at him.

"I might be." he finally said, and John left all the air he had been containing. They stared for a few more seconds before John streched his hand towards Paul. He looked at it and frowned before realizing what he wanted. He unlocked his phone and put it in John's hand.

John created a new contact and saved his number. Then handed it back to Paul. "I'll let you know I stopped myself from puting a name to myself in your phone... Because I am nice like that." he informed him, and Paul smiled.

"Ah, I see. Thank you."

"Well?" John asked as they walked towards the exit of the airport and the Taxi Stop that was right in front of it.

"Well what?" Paul asked instead.

"How're you going to name me? "Dude I was stalking"? "Mistery flight man"?" he stopped for a second and thought, suddenly looking at Paul very seriously. "If my name has "Tinder" on it I'll block you."

Paul threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, will you? And how exactly will you know that?"

"Well, I might be an amazing hacker for all you know..."

"You already told me you're a musician."

"I could be a musician with a hobby."

Paul laughed again and shook his head. He looked beyond John and walked towards the road, lifting an arm to call a taxi that was coming close. "I'll think of something. It won't have "Tinder" on it, promise." he smiled, and opened the back door of the taxi when it stopped. When John didn't move, he made a gesture for him to get in.

"What about you?" he asked, looking at the road to see if there was any other taxi coming.

"I'll get the next one. Come on, you've had a shitty weekend, you deserve to get home as fast as you can." he offered with a soft smile and an even softer tone. John _melted_.

He got close to the taxi, though, and just as he was about to bow to get in, he murmured loud enough for Paul to hear. "It had been shitty up until I got into that plane."

He didn't give Paul time to answer, though, because he'd die, so he got in and closed the door and told the driver his adress and let out a cry that was half embarrassed and half happy.

That same night, John got a message from an unknown number, but he knew who it was the second he read it.

[Unknown]: hey hot stuff, saw you on tinder today, loved ur pic, very sexy

[Me]: Sorry i cant talk to strangers bye

[Paul McStalker]: if you really couldn't talk to strangers i wouldn't have your number wOULD I?

[Me]: I have no idea what you're talking about sir please leave me alone

[Paul McStalker]: aw, c'mon

[Me]: bye

[Paul McStalker]: Johnnn

[Me]: how do you know my name

[Paul McStalker]: i read it on your tinder profile

[Me]: no that was jhon that was someone else

[Paul McStalker]: oh my bad

[Paul McStalker]: so who i've been talking to for the whole duration of the flight???

[Me]: i dont know sir

[Paul McStalker]: dang it

[Paul McStalker]: he was very cute

[Paul McStalker]: and had a lovely sense of humour

[Paul McStalker]: also i like his music taste

[Paul McStalker]: you sure you dont know where i can find him??

[Me]: i

[Me]: i think i know who that charming young man you're describing is, yes

[Paul McStalker]: you do?

[Me]: yea

[Me]: but if you want my information you gotta give me something in change

[Paul McStalker]: i told you before, people usually wait till the third date to ask for this kind of things, john

[Paul McStalker]: but ah, i really want to see him again, so...

[Paul McStalker]: if i have no other choice...

[Paul McStalker]: [Sent a picture]

[Me]: that's a dog

[Paul McStalker]: yes that's martha say hi

[Me]: i

[Me]: that's not what i was expecting but i am somehow not surprised

[Paul McStalker]: i dont think i want to know what you were expecting, you naughty boy

[Me]: who me? im innocent your honor

[Me]: i just wanted to know what name my stalker chose

[Paul McStalker]: oh t h a t

[Paul McStalker]: well you could've been clear

[Paul McStalker]: it's Swipey Boy

[Me]: you know what fair enough

[Me]: once again, not what i was expecting but not surprised

[Paul McStalker]: you like it?

[Me]: wont answer to any questions without the presence of my lawyer

[Paul McStalker]: hm

[Paul McStalker]: so what's mine?

[Paul McStalker]: i bet it has stalker on the name

[Me]: ..

[Me]: no it doesnt

[Paul McStalker]: yes it does

[Me]: no it doeSNT

[Paul McStalker]: yes it doES

[Paul McStalker]: i dont mind you know

[Paul McStalker]: i mean i was kind of stalking you for a bit

[Me]: good because i didnt wanna change it

[Paul McStalker]: so it does have stalker in

[Me]: no

[Paul McStalker]: jesus

[Me]: no this is john

[Paul McStalker]: so you're john!!

[Me]: ..

[Paul McStalker]: gotcha

[Paul McStalker]: mistery solved

[Paul McStalker]: you're the cutie i've been talking to

[Paul McStalker]: hello

[Me]: hi

[Paul McStalker]: so what's my name

[Me]: Paul McStalker

[Paul McStalker]: that's actually pretty funny

[Me]: thankyou

[Me]: spent the whole drive home thinking about it

[Paul McStalker]: really?

[Me]: would i lie to you?

[Paul McStalker]: i dont know this conversation has taken so many turns im confused

[Me]: fair enough

[Paul McStalker]: i changed your name

[Me]: oh?

[Paul McStalker]: yeah

[Paul McStalker]: it's Cute Detective now

[Me]: i dont believe you

[Paul McStalker]: [Sent you a screenshot]

[Me]: ..

[Me]: wow

[Paul McStalker]: yeah

[Paul McStalker]: get it right?

[Paul McStalker]: mister obvious conclusions?

[Paul McStalker]: hello?

[Paul McStalker]: jooohnnn

[Paul McStalker]: i'm gonna fall asleep if you dont come back and i want to say good night and make plans with you

[Me]: sorry i was thinking of a new name

[Me]: good night paul

[Me]: we can indeed make plans

[Paul McCutie]: wait what's my new name!!

[Me]: not telling

[Paul McCutie]: whatt why not

[Paul McCutie]: john you know im gonna eventually find out

[Me]: ah yeah and how're u gonna find out

[Paul McCutie]: i have powers

[Paul McCutie]: charming powers

[Paul McCutie]: and i'll use them on you

[Me]: i actually wouldn't mind that

[Paul McCutie]: yeah i figured you wouldn't so if you dont tell me i WON'T use them on you

[Me]: damn

[Me]: u evil genius

[Me]: alright but im gonna send you a screenshot and then go to bed because i dont think i can possibly handle this now

[Paul McCutie]: fair enough

[Me]: [Sent a screenshot]

[Me]: night paul see ya soon

[Me]: _is offline_

[Paul McCutie]: i can't wait to see you again, john

[Paul McCutie]: good night detective


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i wasn't planning on adding a second chapter but i guess i am just to much of a good parent to leave so many babies craving for more
> 
> yeah that is a weird sentence but i'm too sleep deprived to care anymore tbh
> 
> hope you like it! i'm not really sure about any of it but, you know. go big or go home

[Macca]: Hey mister detective quick question

[Macca]: where the fuck are you

[Johnny luv]: language

[Johnny luv]: i’m coming sir, calm down

[Johnny luv]: i’m walking as fast as i can

[Johnny luv]: i think you could consider this sprinting actually

[Johnny luv]: but just so you know i didn’t forget, i just had a little setback

[Macca]: you forgot didn't you

[Johnny luv]: i did not forget

[Johnny luv]: i had a situation going on

[Macca]: yeah

[Macca]: the situation being that you forgot

[Johnny luv]: how dare you accuse me of such a calamity

[Johnny luv]: i would never forget a date sir

[Johnny luv]: i just lost track of time

[Macca]: l i e s

[Johnny luv]: i’m not lying!

[Johnny luv]: i go take a shower

[Johnny luv]: i get in

[Johnny luv]: i close my eyes for a _ second _

[Johnny luv]: and suddenly i’m late, Elvis The Cat is scratching the door, the phone is ringing and i’m out of shampoo

[Johnny luv]: in the background, sirens

[Johnny luv]: chaos ensues

[Macca]: wow you’re making it sound like an action movie

[Johnny luv]: there was a whole lot of action in my bedroom when i was getting dressed while making myself presentable for you, yeah

[Johnny luv]: but not as much action as last time you came home, ehh

[Johnny luv]: you can’t see me but i’m winking

[Macca]: you can’t see me but i’m regretting my decision of dating you

[Johnny luv]: ouch

[Macca]: i bet you were jumping in one feet while putting your pants on

[Johnny luv]: i was, indeed, jumping

[Johnny luv]: ey i’m here!! where are you?

Paul lifted his eyes from the phone screen and darted the park where they had agreed to meet. It didn’t take long for him to spot John, end instead of answering his text he walked towards him.

The closer he got, the better look he could get to his outfit. He could tell he had dressed in a hurry and his hair was still damp from his shower, but still— he looked gorgeous. He was wearing the red and white striped scarf he gave him in Valentine’s Day, black ripped jeans and a black coat, both of which made the scarf stand out even more.

He wasn’t angry at him anymore for being late (he hadn’t  _ been actually angry _ , just a little upset), but he decided to make John suffer a little bit. The older one saw him when he was a few meters away, still checking his phone to see if Paul had answered, and a little, shy smile appeared in his face.

“‘Ello” he said when Paul was finally in front of him. He raised an eyebrow and stared at him in silence, hands hiding away from the cold breeze in his coat pockets. At that, John nibbled his lower lip. “I know, I’m sorry… But I’m only like, what— fifteen minutes late?”

“Twenty five.” Paul corrected, still keeping a straight face. “It’s cold, John.” he added, just to see his reaction and to make him feel a little bit guilty. It  _ was  _ cold.

John’s lips pursed beautifully and he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, clearly trying to come up with an excuse. In the end, he sighed. “I’m sorry, Paulie. I’ll set an alarm next time, yeah?” he said with a hopeful glance, looking at Paul like a puppy who broke a cushion and is waiting to be forgiven.

Paul could only stand it for a few seconds before bursting into laughter (he was only human, c’mon). “It’s alright, Johnny, I forgive you.” he said while wrapping his left arm around John’s waist. “Let’s go somewhere warmer, yeah?” he offered with a smile, turning his head to look at John, who was now smiling and had that look in his face, that  _ a-ha! i got away with it _ face.

“Sounds good to me, Princess.”

Paul rolled his eyes at the nickname. He had gotten used to it now, but in the beginning it had been quite disturbing to be called that. Not once in his life had he used that nickname (or similar) with any of his partners,  _ female  _ partners. It was incredibly weird to be the one called that. But as he quickly learned, when John was told not to do something ( _ I told you to stop calling me that, John _ ) he did nothing but find ways to still manage to do it ( _ But it  _ suits  _ you, Paulie, what can I do? _ ).

They started walking towards a near café, and while waiting for a traffic light to change, John shivered loudly and with his whole body.   
“Why did you even put those trousers on, anyway? It’s December.” Paul asked, pointing at the pieces of skin that could be seen in John’s legs.

“I didn’t realize they were the ripped ones until I had one shoe on, and I couldn’t allow myself the luxury of taking them off and putting on another pair, could I?” he answered with a grin, and shivered again.

“Poor Johnny.” Paul mocked, pouting.

John looked like he was about to say something, probably a bitter comeback, but suddenly shut his mouth and stared at Paul. After a few seconds, a “What is it?” on Paul’s tongue ready to get out, John launched forward and kissed him. It was a soft kiss, barely a brush of lips, but it startled Paul nevertheless, mostly because of how tender it was. He was quick to tighten his grip in the older one and press a warm hand against John’s cold cheek, caressing it softly with his thumb.

Not long had passed before they remembered they were in the middle of the street, kissing in front of a crosswalk. A couple of people eyed them as they walked passed them, and Paul felt blood rushing to his face so quick he could have fainted. He hid his face in John’s neck, who was now embracing him, and felt the vibrations of his laugh with a smile.

“Sorry. Your lips looked just too inviting when you made that pout.” he explained, and Paul whimpered while laughing, still hiding in his neck.

When they finally made it to the café, John was feeling a lot more warmer and Paul was craving something sweet to get rid of John’s taste in his lips— or else he’d go crazy.

They took a seat in one of the large couches the establishment offered and Paul had to stop John from taking a sip of his coffee when the thing was still fuming.

“Be patient or you’ll burn your tongue.”

“I can live without my tongue, I’ll find other ways to complain.”

“Well  _ I _ can’t live without your tongue, so keep still.”

John stared at him wide eyed for a few seconds before smirking and leaving the mug in the table in front of them. “You can’t, eh?”

“Not now that I’ve gotten used to it.” Paul answered between soft blows to his own drink.

John sighed and slumped in the couch. “You sure know how to turn me on, Macca.” he said in a pained tone, caressing Paul’s back without taking his eyes off of him.

Paul laughed and nodded while taking a sip of his hot chocolate. Sure thing he burnt his lips, but just a little bit.

Half an hour had passed and both of them were already halfway through their drinks (John had actually “helped” Paul with his, because  _ mine’s still to hot, Macca, love, and I’m  _ so  _ thirsty _ ) when John suddenly stopped talking and squinted.

“Is that… that jumper... ” he mumbled, frowning.

Paul looked down to his jumper. There was nothing special in it, really— it was actually quite old, but incredibly warm. “Yeah?” he asked, an eyebrow arched.

“Is it… the one you were wearing on your Tinder picture? The one with Martha?”

Paul blinked once, twice, even a third time before reacting. “Yeah! It is!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, smiling. “Jesus, you remembered?”

“Well, I mean… Yeah, it was kind of an important moment, don’t you think? I guess I remember lots of dumb details.” John mumbled, idly playing with his mug, making the liquid inside move in circles. Oh, Paul knew that look. He saw it for the first time when they made love for the first time. John had wanted to go down on him ever since they started taking each other’s clothes, but didn't dare to say so. He had that look, that “I want to say more than what I am saying, please read my mind or something because there’s no way I’m putting it in words but I’ll explode if I don’t do it so  _ help _ ”. Eventually he didn’t need to say a thing, because there is only a few things that making your boyfriend stay still on the bed while you take his dick in your mouth can mean.

But now? That phase was way over. It had to be.

So Paul pressed the matter.

“Really? What kind of details?” he asked with a grin, moving closer to John, who shot him a glance before focusing in his coffee again.

“I don’t know.” he shrugged.

“Oh, I think you know.” Paul whispered in his ear, pressing the sides of their bodies together. “C’mon, Johnny. You’ve had me waiting for twenty five minutes before— it’s the least you can do to compensate me. Tell me what details you remember, love.” he added before dropping a kiss in his earlobe.

John shuddered, but it wasn’t because of the cold weather. Paul could see his Adam’s apple going up and down as he swallowed, lips pressed tightly together.

“The— uh” he started, taking a gulp of his drink as if it was alcohol before continuing. “The smell of your shampoo. We got pretty close when we shared my headphones, remember? So I could smell the, uh, tangerine in you.”

“Tangerine.” Paul repeated, a small smile in his lips. John nodded. As a treat, Paul caressed his neck with the tip of his nose affectionately. “What else do you remember?”

Letting a weak, trembling sigh, John continued. “You were wearing a white shirt and it had a stain in the collar.”

Paul gasped, looking at his boyfriend as if he had just killed his dog. “And you didn’t  _ tell me _ ?” he exclaimed.

John smirked and shrugged.

Paul huffed, offended, but didn’t move from John’s side. “Outrageous. Go on.”

“Jesus, Paul— you kept following the rhythm of the songs with your feet and I wanted to kill you for it at the beginning, but in the end I kind of liked it, and kept and you kept trying to look out the window even though the lid was down, and you winked at the flight attendant when she offered some tea, and you fucking dozed off when I told you my cat’s name. You  _ do  _ remember that, don’t you?”

“How could I forget? It’s still the best name I’ve ever heard for a cat to this day.”

“And it will remain the best name you’ve ever heard. Any other questions,  _ Princess _ ?”

Paul stared at him for a few seconds, letting the tension build (no, not really), but eventually cracked a smile and leaned in to press a soft kiss to John’s lip. It didn’t take much for the older lad to give into the kiss and raise a hand to Paul’s hair, interwinding his fingers with the soft strands.

After what felt like seconds and hours but had probably been a couple of minutes, John broke the kiss with a content sigh. Only, Paul was not finished yet.

“Just one. When will you show me the photos Aunt Mimi threatened you with?”

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this mess instead of studying because what's life without a little bit of spice
> 
> hope you like it!


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